


Violet

by destimushi



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Electricity Kink, Established Relationship, Loki/Thor - Freeform, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Post-Thor: Ragnarok (2017), Pseudo-Incest, Thor: Ragnarok (2017), Thor: Ragnarok (2017) Spoilers, Thorki - Freeform, Violet Wand, thor is a walking violet wand
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-11
Updated: 2017-12-11
Packaged: 2019-02-13 08:59:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12980634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/destimushi/pseuds/destimushi
Summary: Loki pauses, and Thor rewards the silence with a hard tug that sends Loki reeling through the realms. Blue light arcs from his fingertips, jumps to the head of Loki’s cock, and the world explodes in blinding white. “Is this to your liking?”“Smugness does not become you—oh—” Another spark, another sharp blue sting, and Loki loses the ability to breathe.Thor chuckles, and Loki refuses to compare him to any more thunder metaphors. “Oh, Loki, who knew all it would take to tarnish your silver tongue was a little lightning.”Thor has learned to channel his newly discovered powers in more intimate ways. Loki cannot get enough of it.





	Violet

**Author's Note:**

> After watching Thor: Ragnarok twice, this idea would not leave me alone, and thus my first Thorki fic is born. Thanks to my wonderful beta [JhanaMay](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JhanaMay/pseuds/JhanaMay) for fixing this up, even though she doesn't even ship this!
> 
> Hope everyone likes it!

The first time it happened, Loki nearly passed out.

Not that he would admit the momentary display of weakness to anyone, not even Thor. Especially not Thor. But that does not mean Loki won’t do anything to seek it out again and again.

The ship’s halls are dim, an artificial simulation of Máni’s inky, starlit cloak. Time of day is irrelevant when one does not have a stationary location to witness Sól march across the sky in all her blazing glory, but people enjoy routine. The sooner they fall back into some semblance of familiarity, the better they will adjust to their newly acquired nomadic status.

Asgardians like to think they’re better, more advanced, wiser than all the inhabitants of the nine realms. In reality, they are as mundane as those they deem lesser, and just as prone to fear and uncertainty. But they are his people, people he is willing to lay down his life for, much to his own dismay and, perhaps, astonishment.

The halls are empty, but he keeps to the shadows and arrives at the door he seeks. Loki closes his eyes, tucks his chin and focuses, and he can just make out his brother’s faint snores. His lips curl into a smile befitting the God of Mischief, and a single word falls from the tip of his tongue.

The door unlocks with a mechanical whine, then a soft swish, and Loki is in. He blends in with the darkness inside as if he’s coming home. The door slides shut behind him, but Loki doesn’t have a chance to take another step.

A meaty forearm presses into his throat and chokes him enough that he inhales sharply through his nose. It’s another heartbeat before the hold lets up and Loki can draw breath again.

“Brother,” Thor grouses. “Do you truly have a death wish?”

“If I did,” Loki says as he waves a hand between them, “it would not be carried out by you.”

The room brightens to a dim mockery of a real night sky with glittering stars. Loki steps away from the door and into Thor’s orbit. Truth is, Loki has never left that orbit. No matter how hard he’d tried, how much he lashed out, he’s always drawn back to Thor, trapped by his immense gravity.

If Loki was more honest with himself he’d stop fighting this pull, but he’s built his castle on so many lies he can no longer find himself. Instead, it’s Thor who always drags him out. It’s become a game, this roundabout chase of cat and mouse, of lightning and shadow, one Loki suspects he will always let Thor win because it’s _Thor_.

“What ails you that you must visit my chamber at this hour?” Thor’s voice is soft, but the rumble of thunder rolls between the syllables, carries his concern like a brewing storm.

“Nothing _ails_ me, brother.” Loki holds Thor’s gaze and pulls at the tie at the neck of his night shirt. Sleep vanishes from Thor’s one good eye, replaced by a blazing blue flame. “But I do have a small matter I’d like to discuss with the king.”

The first time Loki sought Thor’s company after Ragnarok swallowed their home, Thor’s empty eye socket still wept blood, his breathing ragged, and his broken sobs raked through Loki like blunt talons. He had drilled into Loki, fucked him within an inch of his immortal life, and every bit of pent up anger and regret and relief and gratitude flowed from Thor’s immense bulk into him.

Now, now they seek solitude and comfort in the heat of each other’s arms, in the shared breath of bliss, in the same moment where they can forget, just for a little while, everything that’s befallen their home and their people.

“And what matter is so urgent it could not wait until sunrise?” Thor schools his face as neutral as he can, but pretence has never been his strength, and the corners of his lips twitch.

“Sunrise?” Loki cocks an eyebrow. Thor’s good humour fades, and Loki swallows the rest of his mockery. He did not come here to ‘rain on his parade,’ as the Midgard saying goes. “It’s not exactly a matter for public record.”

“And not so small,” Thor says as his gaze rakes the length of Loki's body, stops at the junction of his bare legs, and Thor’s face splits into an indulgent smile. It’s a flirtatious smirk, but on Thor, it’s like staring into the sun.

He moves quickly—all feline grace and swiftness and much too quiet for a man of his stature—and closes the distance between them. Large hands, calloused from years of fighting and wielding that god awful hammer, cup Loki’s cheeks with infinite tenderness, tilting Loki’s jaw until he’s falling into the galaxy behind Thor’s eye.

Loki reaches up, touches the eyepatch of simple, matted gold, and its coolness sends a chill through his arm. “Does it still hurt?”

“Nothing I cannot bear.”

“You would not have to _bear_ it if you’d let me—”

“No,” Thor cuts him off, follows the sting of his words with a soothing kiss to the corner of Loki’s mouth. “It’s my burden to bear. I will not have it lessened by magic.”

“Would you prefer science then? I hear they have this wonderful drug called Advil on Midgard. Great for pain.”

“You know that won’t work on me.”

“No, but I can lace it with magic.”

Thor’s laughter is an infectious boom that shocks through Loki, and he can’t help the smirk tugging at his lips.

“Now, we should really attend to this _small_ matter of yours,” Thor murmurs, voice gone husky as if he’d swallowed a thunderbolt. “After all, you did seek an urgent audience with your king.” He leans close, forehead bumping, lips so close not a single dust mote can drift between them.

The first time they’d kissed, it was under the stars in the forest behind Odin’s golden palace. Thor had climbed the tree after Loki, determined to continue their quarrel about some mundane thing Loki no longer remembers. The stars burned with witch fire, but their cascading silver light did nothing to taint Thor’s golden glow as he sat astride the thick branch, his knees bumping into Loki’s, his face twisted in anger inches away .

Loki does not remember Thor’s words, only the flush in his cheeks, the hurt in his eyes, then the taste of his mouth when Thor fisted the front of Loki’s tunic and pulled him in for a crushing kiss. It was electrifying, and when they parted, the tiniest spark of blue arced in the space between their lips.

Thor’s lips taste as good now as they did all those centuries ago. As innocent as their earlier years spent chasing each other in the forest. As electrifying as the first time. Except, it’s also better now.

Gone are Thor’s boyish good looks, replaced by something harder around the edges. Gone are his uncertain hands as they explored Loki’s body, hidden behind boulders under the cover of unsuspecting stars. Now, his hands are sure, demanding, and they take Loki apart piece by piece until Loki has nowhere to hide.

“Yes, my king,” Loki whispers into the infinitesimal space between them, the peak of his top lip brushing against Thor’s. The air around them charges, and every single hair along Loki’s body twinges to life and stands in anticipation.

Thor claims Loki’s mouth. His tongue presses teasingly against Loki’s parted lips, and when it sweeps against Loki’s tongue, a numbing buzz coats his mouth. Loki moans, a soft, mewling sound he reserves only for Thor, and threads greedy fingers through Thor’s hair. It’s short now, but still enough to yank and pull until Thor’s biting at his lips, pushing so hard into the kiss Loki thinks he might break under the pressure.

Thor has never pushed beyond what he thought Loki could take, never unleashed the full might of his passions lest he snapped Loki in half. It was both endearing and infuriating, but no amount of goading had fractured the bonds of Thor’s control. Until now.

Something about Thor changes, and though his touch remains gentle and mindful, his need becomes unchained. Thor uses Loki as much as Loki has wanted to be used since the first time they tangled naked under the stars, and with that animalistic need, comes the sparks.

Thor’s hands roam down Loki’s back, his lips travel along Loki’s jaw, seek the soft hollow behind Loki’s ear, then his teeth nibble down the sweep of Loki’s neck. With a muttered curse, he crushes Loki to him and shuffles backward until they fall into Thor’s bed. Loki untangles himself and straddles Thor’s hips. Bare, pale legs spread wide around Thor’s bulk.

“By the Gods,” Thor hums as he runs his hands along Loki’s thighs, then pulls on the sleeves of Loki’s nightshirt. The tie comes loose, and soft silk slides down Loki’s shoulders and arms until it pools around his wrists and the rest of the shirt bundles in the crease of Loki’s hips. “You are beautiful, brother.”

“And you are speaking too much.” Loki pulls his hands through his sleeves and leans down to nibble along Thor’s naked chest.

A spark crackles in the air. Loki smiles, teeth dancing across tanned skin, and when he finds Thor’s hard nipple, he bites down. The air shifts in a cloying swirl before Loki sees the ominous blue arc of lightning zap across Thor’s chest, inches from his face.

“Ymir’s tits,” Thor gasps, hips jerking and lifting Loki as if he weighs nothing. Thor grabs him by the waist and, in an impressive display of graceful athleticism, flips Loki beneath him. “If you keep doing that, I might bring the whole ship down.”

“Do it.” Loki grins.

“This is the last of our people, of Asgard.” Thor frowns, but there’s no heat behind the look in his eye.

“They’d have died for their king.”

“You are incorrigible.”

“And you are still speaking.”

Thor growls, gathers Loki’s slender wrists in his hand, and pins them above Loki’s head. With his free hand, Thor parts Loki’s thighs and slots himself there as if Loki is one of his conquered realms. One that bowed to his rule willingly. The air shifts yet again, and Loki’s tongue darts out to parse out the flavours of Thor’s moods and intentions like a farmer tasting for rain in the air.

The air is pregnant with the sweetness of a spring shower and a hint of a bitter, raging thunderstorm. Thor has always been an open book waiting for Loki to devour.

Thor’s lips latch onto his collarbone, work their way to the dip and then down his chest. Sparks arc off his torso, tiny blooms that are short-lived but bright.

“I want it,” Loki hisses and struggles against Thor’s iron grip. Hisses again when he cannot break free.

“What do you truly desire, brother?” Thor’s voice crushes him with the force of a thousand falling stars.

“You. In me.”

“Is that all?” Thor crawls up his body. His large hand finds Loki’s straining erection, and he wraps his fingers around the base in a vise. Mjölnir was one lucky hammer.

Loki pauses, and Thor rewards the silence with a hard tug that sends Loki reeling through the realms. Blue light arcs from his fingertips, jumps to the head of Loki’s cock, and the world explodes in blinding white. “Is this to your liking?”

“Smugness does not become you— _oh_ —” Another spark, another sharp blue sting, and Loki loses the ability to breathe.

Thor chuckles, and Loki refuses to compare him to any more thunder metaphors. “Oh, Loki, who knew all it would take to tarnish your silver tongue was a little lightning.”

Loki glares, a searing response on the tip of his tongue when Thor lets go of his wrists and runs his hand down Loki’s chest. Five fingers—five little trails of pin pricks—drag along his skin and light his nerves on fire. Loki arches off the bed, hands twisting in rough sheets, and bites the inside of his cheek.

Blue light illuminates the dim space between them, casts dancing shadows on Thor’s face and heightens the lines etched there. Loki’s body is a sea of pleasurable pain as Thor’s hands dance along his skin, plucking him like an instrument until Loki’s singing a song that belongs only to them.

The first time they did this, it was an accident. Thor was startled and clumsy, and it hurt more than it was pleasurable.

Now, he’s fine tuned his technique, knows where Loki likes it to tickle and where he craves pain as sharp as a knife. He doesn’t let up, continues to pepper Loki with little arcs of shocking bliss until his skin tingles and the emptiness inside him aches from a lack of sensation.

Thor strokes along his cock, the thrum of power a numbing buzz along Loki’s skin, and fondles his balls. Loki hisses, pushes onto his elbows to watch with lidded eyes as Thor spreads Loki’s legs obscenely wide before dragging fingers pulsing with power down to his hole.

Loki’s breath hitches, and the room seems to grow a little cooler as he holds his breath. The first shock grazes his sensitive skin there, a gentle tickle. Thor grins at him, boyish charm softening the razor sharpness of his visage, and Loki’s reminded of Thor’s more devious side. The next shock is stronger. Goosebumps pop along his skin as hairs shake at their roots. Loki gasps, grips the sheets so tight they rip, and Thor maintains the arc on his fingertip as he works it past the ring of protesting muscle.

Blue light vanishes, bounces inside him like trapped lightning, and Loki shouts gibberish before he clamps a hand over his mouth. Thor’s grin widens, good eye sparkling as bright as the arcs of electricity rolling along his body, bathing them both once more in luminescence.   

“Does this please you?” Thor’s lips are warm, breath hot on the shell of Loki’s ear, giant body an electric cage that traps Loki in its embrace.

Loki keens, too far gone to answer, and Thor brushes a strand of hair away from his sweaty brow. He dots feather-light kisses along Loki’s nose, then claims his mouth with a sweep of tongue.

Everything buzzes and hums and Loki can hardly breathe. The universe vanishes. Galaxies blink out of existence. The only thing that matters is the power thrumming through him, pieces of Thor embedding into his flesh like a brand. Like a promise. Like home.

He doesn’t remember the smear of cool oil, doesn’t remember the burning stretch of Thor’s cock head working its way into him. But it doesn’t matter. He no longer needs to hang onto every precious second spent in Thor’s arms, no longer needs to etch every stolen touch into his mind with a dagger.

Thor is his, and he belongs to Thor. Together, they are found, and nothing short of a cosmic catastrophe can rip them apart. Loki’s arms wind around Thor’s thick neck, his cock rubs against the ridges of Thor’s straining stomach as he thrust into Loki’s body. No longer careful, no longer bound by his ridiculous desire to treat Loki like glass.

Electricity skitters across Thor’s shoulders, zaps along his spine, and jumps across to burn like cold fire along Loki’s flesh. Loki relishes the pain, chases each strike with a desperation born out of a lifetime's worth of love and desire.

Pressure builds low in his belly as his cock slides between their bodies. He hardly notices the manifestation of his desire, and that little friction is enough to bring him to the golden gates of Valhalla as it glitters under the bright blue sky of eternal bliss.

The crackles of lightning grow louder, and the light so bright it seeps beneath Loki's closed eyelids. The blue is tinged with a halo of violet, and the arcs are painful to behold. Thor crushes Loki to his chest, muscles bulging, and his teeth sink into Loki's neck, breaking the thin skin to send a jolt straight to the bloodstream.

Loki claws at Thor’s back, nails rending tender flesh, and his legs wrap around Thor’s hips in a serpentine grip. Lightning zaps through him, sensation unlike anything Loki's ever experienced threatens to burst from his skin. As if Thor is melting into his flesh, merging with him on a cellular level, a branding iron on his soul.

When Loki comes undone, it's to the sound of Thor’s choked gasp and the echo of his name whispered into the space between them. Somewhere in the room a light shorts with a shower of sparks, and half the simulated sky blinks out with a dying fizz.

They lay in near darkness, their breathing harsh, until the stray sparks of violet arcs turn blue, then dissipate. Loki wiggles his toes and clings to Thor’s body longer than he intends. He's exhausted, and every shorted cell in his body protests when he sits up with a groan and makes to roll off the bed.

A large hand closes around his wrist, thumb as gentle as a summer breeze strokes the thin skin there. “Stay, little brother.”

Loki swallows, glances at the hand encircled around his wrist then the space beside Thor’s body. “What would the people say?”

“We have traveled for days. The people witnessed what you did for them. For Asgard,” Thor says with a stroke of thumb. “Given a little more time, they will forgive you.”

“Just as you have forgiven me?”

“You have done nothing to require my forgiveness. You are my brother,” Thor says as if that explains away years of upset and betrayal, but his eye squints into a glowing blue slit as a smile spreads across his face. It's the same smile he wore the night he stole Loki's first kiss. The same reflection of contentment after they first laid together on a warm summer night.

Loki rolls his eyes and tucks himself into the hollow of Thor’s body, fitting like the space was carved for him. “Do you still snore loud enough to wake the dead?”

“Absolutely.”

“Lovely.”

 

 

 

    


End file.
